


A Wedding Night to Remember

by EternalShipper



Series: By Order of The King... [3]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-20
Updated: 2019-04-20
Packaged: 2020-01-23 00:16:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18538402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EternalShipper/pseuds/EternalShipper
Summary: On their wedding night, they wish things had been different and yet secrets come to the forth





	A Wedding Night to Remember

**Author's Note:**

> This was meant to be a small scene, with maybe some fluff, maybe some hints that they'd get along, and then.... Baaaaam, my brain happened...

After his strange wedding, Athos stays at the party for as long as he can stand it. He dances with his new wife as the King bids him, makes conversation here and there - he is taken back to a time where is life was fake smiles and hypocrisy. He fears being once again forced to be someone he’s not and feels the shackles tighten around him.

 

From the side he feels the eyes of his wife’s grandfather. A part of him finds it very strange that she refused to invite any more family members, such as her parents but decides to ignore it. She doesn’t seem to be faring much better than himself - all she’d eaten was a piece of wedding cake and she kept refilling both their wine glasses with shaking fingers.

 

As he’s lost in thought, her face approaches his and he startles.

 

“What?” he asks not having heard a word of what she said

 

“I was saying… it would be a good time to slip away. The king is distracted by Richelieu and won’t be able to stop us. I really can’t stand this anymore. I don’t even know a third of the people here. And why is the cardinal at my wedding?” the final part comes out in a whine and Athos feels his first real smile in weeks.

 

“Let’s go” He takes her hand and they hurry through the corridors and to the lavish room the King had insisted they use for their first night. The door closes behind them and both sport the same look of bewilderment as they look at the lit candles and rose petals that cover the room. The decoration gives the room a feeling of romance and intimacy neither is prepared for. Had the circumstances been any different it would have been perfect, if they had chosen each other. But they didn’t, and Izabelle is perfectly aware Athos was as forced into this marriage as she was. Her only consolation is that he never could be as menstruous as her last husband, but she is also painfully aware he was married to Milady Clarick De Winter and probably expects the same type of behavior from her - both in the bedchamber and out. She’d been a disappointment her whole life. It seemed that was not about to change.

 

Unknown to her, Athos feels exactly the same way. His bride would obviously expect a treatment he was not used to giving. He was a soldier, not a Lord, or a Comte, anymore. This was the life he chose and would not fall into the same traps he had with Milady. He would not allow her to use manipulation and sex to blind him to the truth.

 

His thoughts are interrupted when she calls him, sitting in front of a boudoir with a mirror.

 

“My hair is woven too tightly for me to release it by myself. Would you kindly assist me?” she’s looking at him with big lavender eyes and Athos can plainly see she half expects him to say no. He walks over to her, places his hands on her shoulders straightening her back and placing her head in a position that allows him to see where each strand is pined, and finds that she is right, the strands are woven into each-other very tightly, she’d never be able to undo it herself - not without cutting of her air anyway.

 

“You didn’t pin up your own hair, I assume.” He can’t help but let a bit of irony enter his voice.

 

“The Queen’s ladies insisted, and, I guess the Queen was happy to be rid of the harpies for a bit.”

 

Athos snorts. “You’re lucky I like puzzles. Your hair is a jigsaw at the moment. Let me know if I hurt you.”

 

“Yes, sir.” She replies softly, letting him do whatever he pleases, her head following the instructions provided by his hands and fingers. Athos feels that ‘Sir’ in his core, his mind picturing a very different situation while his fingers work on her soft hair.

 

For a moment he wishes their circumstances were different, letting his mind wander and wonder of how that little word ‘Sir’ would sound out of her mouth in different circumstances. That little dark part of him whispering that he can find out very easily, and, that even if it was a game, it was a game he’d win easily. He takes a breath as her hair is completely freed and combs it with his fingers before taking a step back.

 

Izabelle sighs with pleasure and gets up, looking between him and the bed. She takes her shaky fingers to the strings keeping her dress in place and starts to pull at them.

 

Athos looks at her shaky limbs and feels very tired. “How about we just go to sleep?” she looks at him with uncertainty, her fingers pausing. “We’re both tired. And are complete strangers. We should take our time.” He can visibly see her relax.

 

“That makes sense.” She promptly agrees. “Sleep sounds like the best thing in the world, actually.”

 

They studiously ignore each-other as each goes to a corner of the room to change.

 

Athos strips to his briefs and turns to ask Izabelle something. He completely forgets what when he sees her back.

 

Izabelle is facing the wall, pulling a shift to sleep in when Athos sees the expanse of her back covered in scar tissue and lets out a sound, startling the girl. She turns to him as she finishes pulling the shift down, her big lavender eyes wide open and he’s on her in half a second.

 

“What happened to your back?” one big hand is at her forearm and the other pulling at her shift to see the damage clearly as she tries to weasel out of his grasp. “Who did this?” she ends up turning to him but does not reply, his hands are at her arms when her silence causes his temper to flare “WHO. DID. THIS?”

 

She just looks at him with wide eyes, frozen and then simply states “I thought you knew. I thought they’d have told you.”

 

Athos feels his temper flare again and realizing it would only scare the girl takes a breath his fingers gripping at her arms.

 

“You’re hurting me.” She mumbles and he releases her as if he’s been burned and she stumbles.

 

There is a pause and Izabelle takes it to get in the bed, pulling the covers to her chest like a shield. She crosses her arms and watches Athos.

 

He takes a deep breath and goes the other side of the bed, getting in and mimicking her position.

 

“Tell me.” His voice as that deep low tone he uses on his suspects.

 

“At the end of my marriage, my last husband wanted me to sign some documents…”

 

“What kind of documents?” he interrupts

 

“He wanted control of my father’s property, to ensure in case of my death he would still get it, but in order for that to happen, he needed me to sign a waiver.”

 

“And…” he prompts when she pauses.

 

“And I refused. Eventually, he lost his patience and started to use other methods. When smaller things didn’t work he had his right-hand man whip me. He left for Paris and told him to do it every week until I broke. Promised to reward him… The second time he whipped me I got mouthy. Kept taunting him. So he just kept on whipping me. They say he opened me to the bone. I probably would have died if Treville hadn’t shown up.”

 

Athos is silent. Anger fuming inside him. He takes a breath and speaks calmly “And you thought Treville would have told me… Where is this man now?”

 

“Dead. When Treville arrived he was still… I was told Treville killed him in self-defense.”

 

“Good.”

 

“Wine?”

 

“Yes”

 

"Thank God!"

 

 


End file.
